


Blue Skies

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 19:28:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3861964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The glasses continue to transmit, unaware that the man wearing them is dead. The video feed hasn't changed at all in the last hour. It shows nothing but blue skies with the occasional passing cloud. Merlin stares and stares at that sky, willing something in that view to change.</p><p>And then it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Skies

Eggsy is crying, finally giving in to his grief about Harry, and Roxy is doing her best to comfort him, so Merlin discreetly removes himself to the cockpit. He wants to give them as much time as possible before they have to accept the crushing responsibility he's about to hand them.

He has preparations of his own to make, as well. It's been years since he was in the field, and he's not at all sure he misses it. He would far prefer to have seasoned agents at his back, but Merlin is a Kingsman and a practical man. He's more than capable of making do with what he has.

He checks the video feeds again, looking to see if he can spot the traitors within the organisation. He's found one already, possibly a second. He cycles through them one by one, ending up on the single feed that hasn't changed at all in the last hour.

This one shows nothing but blue skies with the occasional passing cloud. The glasses are just a machine, really. They continue to transmit, unaware that the man wearing them is dead.

Merlin stares unblinking at that sky, willing something in that view to change. He's becoming increasingly desperate to see something new. It could have happened while he wasn't looking, he knows that. Surely there are people at that church by now, police, firemen, rescue personnel. But unless they move close enough for the audio to pick up the sounds of their presence, he can't hear them. And until they lean directly over Harry's body so they enter the glasses' visual range, he can't see them.

He goes through the other feeds, but keeps Harry's on the screen. He has to know what's happening out there. As soon as this is all over, he's going personally to Kentucky and bringing Harry home. 

Tears sting his eyes, but he blinks them back, forcing them to retreat. He can't afford to cry right now. He isn't allowed just yet to mourn his oldest friend, or remember those little boys who used to chase each other across the lawn when they were barely old enough to be out of nappies.

He's glad, though, that he can grant this time to Eggsy. Even in the midst of his own grief, he feels sorry for Eggsy, so young and so in love.

Merlin knows the truth, of course. He's pretty sure he's the only one who knows. From the very beginning it was written all over Eggsy's face, the pure adoration any time he looked at Harry. But only Merlin ever knew it to be something other than hero worship for a mentor who rescued him from a life of poverty and abuse.

And Merlin is absolutely certain he's the only one who knows those feelings were reciprocated. He's the only one Harry trusted enough to make confession to, sitting one night in the drawing room, a bottle of Scotch half gone between them. He remembers it perfectly, the way the fire crackled in the hearth, the look on Harry's face as he explained with crisp logic why he could not – should not – be allowed to fall in love with Eggsy Unwin.

He remembers saying quietly, "What does logic have to do with the heart?"

And he remembers the way Harry slowly looked up at him, the beginning of a smile on his face. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

He wonders now if it would be cruel or a kindness to ask Eggsy to come with him to Kentucky. It would give the young man some closure. But it might also be too terrible for him to deal with.

He will cross that bridge when he comes to it, he decides. He cycles through the feeds once more, and that's when his view of that blue sky finally changes.

His breath catches. His heart starts to race. Because it's not an abrupt change like someone walking into view, or moving Harry. It's a painfully slow movement, a gradual shift to the left. The tops of some trees appear in frame, then more of them. A flagpole with the American flag. Cars. Cracked grey asphalt. An arm in a pinstriped suit, the white cuff stained with blood, bloody fingers curled slightly inward.

With a shaking hand, Merlin brings that feed up, and only that one. He raises the volume until he is certain that what he thinks he hears is in fact what he's actually hearing: laboured breathing.

One hand rises to cover his mouth. It's impossible. It can't be.

But it is.

Harry's fingers twitch. He breathes in, then out, then in again.

Merlin stares and stares. Many times throughout the years he's seen things over the glasses that make him want to reach through the screen and physically help the agent he's guiding. But he's never felt that desire more strongly than right now. More than anything he wants to say something, to speak words of encouragement and reassurance in his friend's ear. But he's not sure if he dares. He doesn't know yet who all the traitors are in Kingsman. One of them might be watching right now.

The view from the glasses starts to change again, this time moving upward and still to the left. After only a couple seconds, though, it stops abruptly, and Merlin hears a sharp inhale, the sound of someone arrested by sudden pain.

He throws caution to the wind then, the words tumbling out of him before he can stop himself. "Galahad. Harry. If you can hear me, I see you. I know you're there."

His view of the scene stays the same, but as he watches, Harry's fingers slowly curl into a loose fist before relaxing again.

"Oh God," Merlin whispers. The tears are back, and this time it requires genuine violence to force them away.

"We're coming," he says. And then, because he knows what Harry needs to hear most right now: "Eggsy is with me. He's safe."

Harry makes a faint sound. He may be trying to speak. It's impossible to know for sure.

"We're going to stop Valentine," Merlin says. "Eggsy, myself, and Lancelot. But when it's over, we're coming to get you. All you need to do is hold on, you understand?"

Slowly Harry curls his fingers in again, the only way he's able to signal his assent.

In the background, made louder by how high he's got the volume cranked, a siren approaches. He hopes this will be it, someone will finally approach and realise that Harry isn't just another dead body, but a survivor.

An alert beeps on one of his monitors. They're approaching the coordinates of Valentine's bunker. He's got to go back out there and tell Eggsy and Lancelot about their mission. He has to go save the world.

"I have to go," he says. "You hold on, Harry. Stay alive. We'll come for you as soon as we can."

He won't tell Eggsy about this, he thinks. Not yet. Eggsy might hate him for it later, but it's the right thing to do. He needs the young man focused on the mission, on stopping Valentine. Right now nothing else matters. Harry is alive for the moment, but the most vulnerable he's ever been. None of it will mean shit if they can't stop Valentine, and Harry gets taken to a hospital where the staff turns on their helpless patients and slaughters them all.

A pair of legs comes into view of the glasses' feed. A young woman in an EMT uniform kneels down, her eyes wide, her face very pale. "Oh my God," she says. She turns around and calls out to someone behind her.

It's okay then, Merlin decides. Help has come, and he can feel confident in letting Harry go.

For now.

But as soon as this is over, the very second it ends, he's taking Eggsy and Roxy and flying this plane to Kentucky. 

He's going to bring his friend home.


End file.
